Chapter Text
Jason Todd was having a bad day. Jason Todd often had bad days, but today was egregiously terrible because the assholes that attacked him hit him with magic. Jason, being the holder of the All Blades, was himself magic. The soul magic of the Acres of All did not play nicely with other magic. Usually magical attacks were not sneak attacks. Magicians that attacked people loved the attention of their victims and nine and a half times out of ten they'd announce themselves before slinging spells around. The half times they didn't Gotham tended to mess with their spells. It was cursed to hell and back, literally in some places.
This was, unfortunately, the rare half unit likely to happen and when the spell hit Jason his domino shorted out. He assumed everything electronic on him shorted, too. Better to plan around it than expect anything to work. That was almost definitely not what the spell was supposed to do though. So thanks Ducra and thanks Gotham.
Jason threw up a basic warding shield and hurriedly took off his re-breather and set the domino to analogue. The next two spells fizzed out like spent sparklers. Jason tracked six cultists. Six was twice three, not as good as nine, thrice three. But still better than three. Jason didn't want to risk cutting into someone without an evil soul with his All Blades. Seeing what happened to Essence when she cut him with her Acres of All blessed Blood Blade was warning enough.
He reinforced his shield with one hand and drew with the other. Rubber round just above the ankle on Six, bone probably shattered, everything fucked for sure; hand on Five, bones definitely shattered. They finished chanting their shitty shitty Latin and Jason's shielding ward cracked then sparked into nothing as it failed.
"Resiliunt parietem!"
"Connie's never gonna let me live this down," Jason groaned. Because it was fucking embarrassing having his correctly incanted and cast spell broken by idiots. Thankfully, the idiots —just like everyone that didn't bother researching him before starting shit— were not expecting him to handspring away from the follow-up. Less thankfully, the follow-up spell was affected by one of Gotham's many curses and imploded. Jason had to land and brace for the backlash.
"Adhuc immortui rubigo!"
"Oh my God did you even read a fucking book ever in your life? I can't believe this shit. Jesus Christ. Go to fucking church and learn real Latin, assholes."
Predictably, they were not inspired to convert to Catholicism by his very reasonable demand.
"The church is corrupt, they welcome abominations! We follow the true ways of God!" Idiot Four shouted.
Idiot Two repeated the shittily worded spell. This time something in the spell made it through his shield. Something that sizzled and burned and melted his magic.
"That's not good." Jason muttered. He pushed off and flipped over the nearest cultist and shot out their elbow before landing.
Idiot Three got off their spell but it missed. Jason didn't. That left Idiots One and Two still standing.
"Adhuc immortui rubigo!"
Their badly worded spell hit and unfortunately still worked. Jason couldn't move. He groaned, "Oh my fucking shit. I'm gonna break your face when I get out of this, you fucking idiot bastard."
The two un-shot assholes grabbed his arms and cuffed him. With handcuffs. They didn't even put his arms behind his back. Jason, unfortunately, could only move the very tips of his fingers and toes.
"If RR gets me out of this he's never gonna shut up," Jason bemoaned. It was, after all, the exact same thing Jason did whenever he wound up rescuing 'helpless' CEO Tim Drake-Wayne. It was only proper for brothers to torment each other. Didn't make it not humiliating though.
"No one will get you out of anything ever again, undead abomination!"
Which is when Idiot One blew an orangey-red dust at his face and Jason felt like he was fucking burning up everywhere it landed. Like his skin, his mouth, his sinuses, his fucking lungs. And he still couldn't move. Couldn't cough or sneeze. He was dragged excruciatingly slowly by two scrawny fuckheads and thrown in the back of a road salt rusted mini-van. This wasn't even a proper kidnapper van. This was someone's fucking family car. If his gang used a van like this for anything Jason would fucking expire on the spot. Jason glared at the crumbled goldfish and broken crayons. Someone. Was going to die for this. Fuck Bruce and fuck his stupid 'no killing' rule. Killing was therapeutic, actually.
The trip was long enough Jason could move all of his toes and most of his fingers by the time they stopped the van. He had no idea what happened to the assholes he'd shot, only the two that'd carried him were in the van with him. Jason lamented using rubber rounds, they'd have already bled out if he used live.
The van door opened and there were more cultists. Because of course there were. Jason took a burning breath and slammed his forehead against the nearest face. Pain screamed through his bones but he rolled out of the van and landed in a crouch. They were in a graveyard.
There was cursing, verbal not magical, and clumsily chanted Greek this time. Jason grabbed the little kernel of the Acres of All in his soul and the spell fell apart when it hit him. His hands were shaking. Damn, no guns now. The fight to get him down was brutal. He could move only barely so he bit and ripped chunks out of whatever or whoever was nearest his mouth. He started coughing up blood. Fuck. He couldn't stop. He couldn't fucking move. Fucking shit. He was pinned down and his arms cuffed together with what was probably all the cuffs they had on hand. Idiots. They didn't even have ankle cuffs, his legs were free. Just as soon as he stopped hacking up his lungs he was going to kick their ribs in.
"The rot was strong in this one. It took the holy sanguine flora direct to its eyes and mouth, I, I cleansed it myself. After it had been blessed to stillness." Idiot One said, voice shaken. Good. Jason hoped they'd pissed themselves.
"The evil in this city is strong, yes. But not stronger than God. We must pray, to ensure that the rot does not cloud our weak mortal bodies again."
"Yes Father, let us pray." The freaks chorused.
Jason was thrown into a mausoleum. When the door was shut magic wards activated. It was just enough light to not be pitch dark. Jason had broken four of the cuffs and finally stopped coughing when the door was opened again. Jason stood, ready to lunge.
"-you guys are really bad at listening. I said I never had a funeral and, woah!"
Jason stared down at the dark haired guy that'd just bounced off of him. He wasn't getting up. He was breathing though. Jason tried not to breathe hard enough to trigger another coughing fit and knelt down next to him. He only had one set of cuffs. Easy enough for Jason to break. His throat burned and he forced himself to move even slower. This was going to suck.